Room 251 was an idea that terrified me as a sophomore. I believed the four walls would swallow me whole, and that the class could only be more of a monstrosity to take on. Insurmountable then, I’ve grown into a new sense of comfort with it by now. The grand oval of seats intimidated me but now I feel familiar with the discussions this circle has seen, even with the shred of hesitance the seating arrangement still holds against me. I’ve peered over innumerable times to a bookshelf overwhelmed with the weight of all too many books with yellowing pages and the smell of age. My familiarity extends to the cold draft in this room. The windows behind me frame the perpetually gray skies of a school year in Chicago. I took sophomore English in this room. Now, my senior English class takes place in this same room. I’ve watched myself change in this room, and now I’m revisiting the room that saw the biggest change in my thinking in the classroom and outside.
It is important to add that the class I was put in sophomore year was already harder than my previous level and something I was nervous for. However, this class turned out to be harder in a way I could never imagine. It sparked academic interest and curiosity; it ignited a new mindset. Not every
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I remember learning about Freud’s ideologies in awe. Then seeing how the idea of the subconscious surfaced in major literary works and having a solid discussion on the matter; this made me both appreciative of literature in a new way and appreciative of my new ways of thinking. I’ll never forget the way I felt when I walked into that room that year, wading through the new perspectives and ideas I could feel flooding me as I got to my seat in anticipation of the rich discussion ahead. Everyone talks about a teacher or class that has changed their lives. That was